Diary of a Lost Girl
by Eileen
Summary: Now here's something that's never been seen before . . . a MystiqueMagneto romance! This starts off 10 or so years in the future, and flashes back a lot, in diary form. CURRENT STATUS: Unknown


Diary of a Lost Girl

Diary of a Lost Girl 

(Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel, KidsWB, etc.)

(A/N: This is set about 10 years in the future of the current season of Evolution.)

I.

Raven Darkholme, also called Mystique, shifted her enormous, eight-months-pregnant body in her chair and thought: _I'm too old for this._

Physically, she wasn't too old to bear a child, at forty-four, but there were certain risks; she'd had every test her doctor could order for her until the sight of him made her cringe. The baby (a girl) was fine.

She was just so _tired_. Tired of waking up five times a night to pee. Tired of never being able to get comfortable no matter what position she was in. Tired of getting kicked in the ribs every time she rolled over. Mostly, though, she was just tired of waiting.

She couldn't remember her first pregnancy being this difficult, even with twins. She _knew_ for a fact that her back hadn't bothered her this much. It was probably the difference between being twenty and being forty-four: a younger body could shrug off the little aches and pains that her older self found it hard to tolerate.

The baby kicked again, so hard it made her jump. She wasn't usually this active in the middle of the day.

"Hey, Mystique, are you okay?" Todd Tolensky, also known as Toad, rushed to her side. "You need a pillow? A blanket? Want me to put your feet up? How about some water?"

She gritted her teeth and wished he'd just go away. The way he fussed over her constantly, you'd think he was the father. He waited on her practically twenty-four hours a day; whether this was an overzealous attempt at sucking up, or a genuine effort to be helpful, she had never been able to figure out.

"I'm fine," she hissed between clenched teeth. It took great self-control for her not to reach out and throttle him.

"You sure? You look like you're in pain. You're not having contractions, are you?"

"No!" she nearly shrieked, as the baby kicked again.

"I'm calling the doctor. Or an ambulance. How far apart are—"

"Todd, shut UP!" Her hands flew to the small of her back, which was where the worst of the pain was. "I'm all right now, I think. She's just restless."

Toad placed a hand on her bulging stomach. "Hey, you," he crooned to the baby. "You okay in there, little . . . what's her name?"

"She doesn't have one yet. I'm not that good at picking out girls' names," she admitted.

"You have to call her something."

"I'll deal with that when the time comes." That was her answer for everything right now. She didn't even want to think about the actual birth, never mind what came afterwards. Diapers and formula and late-night feedings . . . _I'm just too damn OLD for this!_

She started to get up, and found herself getting jabbed in the side again. "Ouch! Hey, take it easy there!" she chided, rubbing her stomach.

"Here, sit down," Toad said. "I'll be right back."

Mystique sat down, pain racing up and down her back. It was almost unbearable. _I can't take much more of this,_ she thought. _Hey, you, No-Name. Hurry up and be born already!_

Todd came back a few minutes later. "Okay, lean forward a bit."

"What exactly are you doing?" she asked, bending forward as far as she could (which wasn't very far).

"I'm just putting the heating pad in behind you here. Okay, all set."

She leaned back and felt comforting warmth. "Thank you," she sighed.

"Don't fall asleep on me now."

"I won't." She felt herself relax for the first time in six weeks. No, truth be told, in six **months**, ever since she'd first found out she was pregnant. There were days when she wished she'd never agreed to all this. She'd forgotten how hard it was, how long the nights were when she couldn't sleep, how much it took out of her. At times like that, she was ready to give up and chuck it all . . .

. . . and then she'd feel the baby move.

Then she'd remember that it wasn't just about her anymore. There was another person in this drama, who needed her.

Mystique, who admittedly hadn't been the best mother to her first two children, vowed that this time would be different. This time no one and nothing would stand in the way of her being a mother to her baby girl.

She must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes, it was almost dark. Someone had spread the old afghan over her; she smiled at the thoughtful gesture. She rarely had occasion to smile these days: with the Brotherhood increasingly pushing her away from whatever they were planning, she felt isolated from the very people she had once given a home to. They were a family, weren't they? And families didn't keep secrets from each other.

She looked up as she saw Toad flop down in the recliner and click on the remote. "When did you get back?"

"About a half-hour ago. How are you feeling?"

Mystique gave a wistful sigh and said, "Better than I have in months. I think she may actually have gone to sleep."

"Good."

"What was the meeting about?"

At his look, she said, "Oh, come on. I know why you've all been spending so much time behind closed doors. What's going on?"

"Um . . . I can't really say . . ."

There was a blur of motion at the corner of her eye, which Mystique immediately picked up on. "Hello, Pietro," she said.

"Hey, Ma," he answered, giving his stepmother a peck on the cheek. "How's my baby sister?" He patted her tummy and cooed, "Hi, Precious." The scene would have seemed ludicrous to anyone who didn't know them well.

And here she had been worried Pietro might be jealous of the new baby. No problems there. He had been married, briefly, but he and his wife hadn't had children; she wondered if that might have anything to do with it.

"Oh, please don't wake her up," Mystique whispered. "She's been kicking up a storm all day and I just managed to quiet her down."

"I got her some stuff." Pietro pulled out a huge shopping bag from a baby boutique. "Which do you like better, the pink one with the ruffles or the yellow one with the duckies?"

Mystique looked at both and shook her head. "Has your father seen these?"

"Are you kidding? He wouldn't come within ten miles of stuff like this!"

Where **was** he, anyway? And what was he up to?

More importantly, why was he keeping it from her?

Suddenly excruciating pain gripped her midsection like a vise. She moaned, her face contorted with pain.

"What is it?" The boys—well, they weren't boys any longer, but she still thought of them that way—moved closer.

She couldn't speak, couldn't answer, couldn't even breathe. Then it passed. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not. I'm calling the hospital." Picking up the phone, Pietro searched the speed-dial for the number.

"No, don't. It's okay, it's over now." Maybe it was just a fluke; she wanted desperately to believe that, even as some deeper part of her realized the truth.

The door crashed open and Blob lumbered in, clutching fast-food bags in each hand. "I got the food. Who wants Nuggets?"

Pietro and Todd both glared at him. "Not now! Mystique's having contractions!"

"I am **not** having contractions!" Mystique spluttered, clutching her midsection and breathing deeply.

Freddy looked scared. "Uh . . . should we call 911 or something?"

"I'm fine." Mystique tried to get up from her chair. "I'll just go lie down until it goes away." Without warning, she was doubled over by another burst of pain.

That settled it. They took her to the hospital, leaving a note on the refrigerator for her husband.

II.

Magneto found the note when he came home two hours later:

Mom's started having contractions, so we took her to the hospital. Will call

when we know what's going on.

P.

Magneto's eyes widened at that—he knew his wife was far along, but hadn't expected her to go into labor this soon. He hoped everything would be all right with her and the baby.

It was particularly distressing since their last child had been stillborn, six weeks early. They had already named him—Daniel, for Mystique's father. It was one of the worst days of their five-year marriage, if not the worst. For a while they thought they might not have any more, and then came the day when they'd found out about the new baby . . .

The telephone rang.

He picked it up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Father?"

"Pietro, is she all right? Is the baby all right?" Such questions would have sounded odd, coming from a man known for his ruthlessness toward others. It was different when those others were his own family, though.

"They're both okay. I think she's in Intensive Care now. They were able to stop the contractions and give her something to ease the pain. She'll be okay, but once she comes home she'll have to stay in bed till the baby's born."

"She won't like that much," Todd interjected. "She didn't before."

"I'm coming down," Magneto said. "Ask her if she wants me to bring anything."

"Okay." There was a long pause. "She says she wants her diaries. The old ones. I think she wants to look something up."

"Where does she keep them?"

"On the bottom two shelves of the bookcase."

"**Two **shelves?" He hadn't even known she kept a diary. 

"Bring as many as you can. We'll come and help you."

"We will?"

And so Pietro and Todd went home and helped load tons of old journals into a bag.

"Yo, what _is_ all this stuff? It weighs a ton! Not to mention the cute little animals on the cover."

"Let's take a look." Opening one of the books, Pietro saw the words, **"Doctor Magnus is HOT!"** at the top of one page. 

**"I know it sounds weird, but I think he likes me. He's always calling on me in class, and sometimes**

**I'll catch him looking at me from behind, like he knows something I don't . . ."**

_What's up with that?_ he thought, before he noticed the date: September 1983. It was one of the first entries in the book.

He flipped a little further on. The next entry was dated 1984.

**"I called Richard and told him about the baby. I though he should know as soon as possible. **

**He asked me how much I wanted. I said, how much what? He said, one million? Two? I said,**

**Dollars? You're buying me off? I was so angry I hung up on him. How dare he think he could**

**Buy my silence? How could I ever have believed he loved me?"**

** **

What was all this about? Who was this Richard guy she kept referring to, and did she say baby? What baby?

This was very confusing. He flipped back a few pages and found the first mention of the name Richard.

**"I just met the most enchanting man tonight. His name is—" **There was a blur of stained ink, and then the entry continued, **"pronounced ree-SHARD. French, you know. So sophisticated, could you just die? **

**Anyway, he wants to see me again tomorrow, same place. Dr. Magnus doesn't care what I do**

**As long as I don't "disrupt his experiments". I wonder what he's doing that's so important . . ."**

** **

"Good reading?"

Pietro turned and saw his father standing over him with a look of concern.

"I was just . . . um . . . sorting them. This one's ready to go." He stuffed it into a canvas duffle bag. "How many do you think she needs?"

"Three or four. No more than that. Did she say what she's looking for?"

"No. And I wouldn't ask, if I were you. She is _not_ in a good mood right now." He loaded up the first three volumes( the cute animals gave way to more businesslike covers), thought about it, and added one more just to be sure. "Okay, let's go."

Pietro and Toad got in the car, and Magneto joined them. He was dressed in civvies for probably the first time in ten or fifteen years. It felt odd to be wearing something other than his costume, but he couldn't just walk into the hospital in full battle dress, complete with helmet. It wasn't as if he would be walking into a war zone . . . not even the X-Men would dare to instigate a fight on the grounds of a hospital.

Of course, he failed to consider that some of them might be there for different reasons entirely . . .


End file.
